We saw the sun come up each morning. And we drank, and we ate, and we may have accidentally set the rental car on fire.
But wasn't fire exactly what I was seeking? A spark?
After my dad left me on the porch that night lightning struck, I screamed -- crying and calling out into the thundering night. But as I waited for an answer that never came, something happened. I couldn't say when or exactly how. I think it began because I was jumping up and down, trying to keep my cold bare feet off the frozen porch. But the jumping turned into swaying. And then into spinning. And by the time the chaos had calmed, I was dancing alone in the rain, holding out my hand to the lightning, daring it to strike.
On my last night in Rome, there was a lightning storm like one I have never seen. The sky was clear, with not a single raindrop, but the thunder boomed as lightning bore down on all sides of us. Bolts so close they were blinding. And on the terrace on the top floor of the city apartment, in the very spot that my friends and I had spent the previous evening jotting down memories of the people we once were, we danced -- jumping up and down in the center of the light show, holding out our hands and clicking our cameras as the Roman gods flexed their muscles for us.
I caught a photo of the zigzagging current across from us.
I captured my spark.
Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at http://www.creators.com/books/stop-farting-in-the-pyramids. Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.